Stop All The Clocks
by drumbjo
Summary: Happily Never After Contest Entry   Sookie tries her best to distance herself from everyone with the secret she knows, but when author Eric Northman comes crashing into her life, can she resist any longer?


Happily (N)ever After Contest Entry  
Title: Stop All The Clocks  
Characters: Eric, Sookie, Pam, Amelia and Bill  
Word Count:10,780  
Pen Name: drumbjo  
Beta: BathshebaRocks  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Southern Vampire Mysteries as they belong to Charlaine Harris. I also do not own Robert Southey's The Story of the Three Bears, and I owe a debt of gratitude to the brilliant Dara Ó Briain.  
TEASER: Sookie tries her best to distance herself from everyone with the secret she knows, but when author Eric Northman comes crashing into her life, can she resist any longer?

.

_._

"_Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Goldilocks."_

I looked down at the faces of the four and five year olds who sat in front of me, each on an individual cushion, watching me expectantly. I loved the reaction I could get out of kids of their age and it thrilled me to see how much they loved books, stories and reading. If only they could keep it up as adults.

Unfortunately, in a world of video games, iPods, computers and iPads, the paper book was under threat from the electronic device. It was a concerning time to be a librarian even inini in a literary city such as Oxford.

I continued with the story. I knew it off by heart, but kept up the pretence of reading by glancing down at the page before looking into the children's eyes. "She went for a walk in the forest. Pretty soon, she came upon a house. She knocked and, when no one answered, she walked right in."

"Yes, why not," a sarcastic male voice said, interrupting the story. "Please, by all means encourage my child to think that breaking and entering is a good idea."

I looked up over the heads of the children to the back of the brightly coloured room where the parents were gathered. Most of them were ignoring me – they normally did – and it was usually the mums that brought their children here, not the dads.

The man in question – the only one in the room – was leaning in one corner and smirking at me. My annoyance must have shown on my face and I gave him my hardest glare before returning to the book in front of me.

"At the table in the kitchen, there were three bowls of porridge. Goldilocks was hungry. She tasted the porridge from the first bowl. 'This porridge is too hot!' she exclaimed." I increased the animation in my voice as I spoke, and looked up from the book to see the excited faces of the children in front of me.

It was one of the reasons I really loved my job. I loved books and literature, and I loved children, so being the librarian responsible for the children's section of the large Oxford City Library was really my dream job.

"So," I continued, "she tasted the porridge from the second bowl. 'This porridge is too cold,' she said. And finally she tasted the last bowl of porridge."

Each of the pairs of eyes were trained on me. I was sure they'd probably heard the story before – most kids knew the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears – but they listened intently nonetheless.

"'Ahhh, this porridge is just right,' she said happily and she ate it all up."

I heard a snort coming from the back of the room that sounded distinctly male in origin.

"Is there a problem, sir?" I asked. It pained me to detract from the story, but it was the second time he had interrupted me.

The man in question was tall and, at my question, he straightened himself to show that he was well over six foot. He made the mum who was standing next to him look like a child herself. His blond hair was probably too long to be considered acceptable for a parent, and he had piercing pale blue eyes, which were fiercely locked on mine.

I felt trapped under his gaze.

"How is that even possible?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean, surely the mummy bear made all the porridge together in one pan, so how exactly can they come out at three different temperatures? And surely, if she had any common sense, she would have mixed the cold and hot ones together to make a perfectly temperate bowl of breakfast. At least that way they wouldn't have had to go out for a walk and she wouldn't have let an ill-behaved child into her home to vandalise her property."

I was aware my mouth was hanging open, but this man was unbelievable. The smug grin was back on his face as he challenged me, but I was determined to not ruin the story-time for the children, so I ignored him and continued with the story. Luckily w ithout further interruption.

Once I'd finished reading _Goldilocks_, I asked the children which story they wanted me to read next. A particularly cute blonde girl placed her hand in the air.

"Yes?"

"Can you read _The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_? It's my favourite story."

I was astounded. The girl couldn't have been more than five years old, six at the most. What kind of parent allows their young daughter to read that kind of story?

"Pamela," the tall blond man said in a warning tone from the back of the room. "That book is for home only. Let someone else choose."

Of course, she would be his daughter. The little girl turned to her dad and seemed to scowl at him, but he gave her a firm look and she was appeased.

We decided on reading _Peter Pan_ before the end of the story hour was up as it was more child-friendly than Pamela's suggestion. She seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.

I noticed at the end of the hour that the reaction to the man was a mixed one. Some of the mums had seemed annoyed by his interruptions and comments, as well as his daughter's choice in fiction, whereas others seemed to stare at him hungrily. I couldn't blame them for that, the man was overwhelmingly handsome, but he obviously knew it as well.

I dismissed the children and set about tidying up the cushions that were all over the library floor.

"I hope I haven't offended you, Miss Stackhouse." I was surprised that he knew my name.

I turned to see him again leaning against the wall as he watched me tidy away the cushions.

"I'm sorry, Mr…"

"It's Eric," he said with what looked suspiciously like a flirtatious smile as he walked towards me and extended his hand. "Just Eric."

I took his hand in mine and was met by a firm grip.

"Eric," I started once he'd released my hand, "I really would appreciate it if I could read to the children without interruption. In some cases, this is the only time that the children get read to."

"I find that very sad," he said, much to my surprise.

"It happens. I think some parents would just leave their children here alone given half a chance. I like to think that my reading to them twice a week gives them something they don't get anywhere else." I gave him a challenging look to see if he would apologise for his interruption.

"I hope that it does, Miss Stackhouse. I look forward to hearing you again soon, maybe you can choose to read something a little more intelligent than mindless fairy tales. Life isn't all fairy tales, you don't want to give those kids false hope."

It seemed a very world-weary thing for him to say, but I had to agree with him. My own life certainly wasn't a fairy tale, but that didn't mean children shouldn't believe in them. "I disagree. A child's mind should be full of hope. They should be protected from the horrors of the world. It's not a child's place to worry about the future."

He seemed shocked that I would challenge him. "You speak with conviction, Miss Stackhouse, but in my experience, children are happy to know a little of the dark side."

"And what _experience_ would that be?" I asked, my voice sounding acidic as he took a step closer to me causing me to crane my neck upward to continue our eye contact.

"That's not relevant," he said before leaning forward and speaking into my ear. "I look forward to seeing more of you, Miss Stackhouse."

With that, he turned and left, calling to his daughter as he strode out of the library. I was too stunned to do anything other than watch him leave.

I didn't want to be attracted to him, and I certainly wouldn't let anything happen between us. He was arrogant and far too self-assured for my liking, but the way he said 'Miss Stackhouse' throughout our conversation gave me butterflies in my stomach, and the double entendre in his words at the end was almost panty wetting. But I couldn't go there.

"Sookie!"

I turned to see my work-colleague Amelia walking towards me at pace.

"I think I hate you!"

"Why?" I asked, genuinely not sure what she was talking about.

"Why? Try the fact that Mr Sexy Ass actually spoke to you? I've tried talking to him before, and I was lucky if I got one syllable out of him. But you, you get a full on conversation. So, I hate you." She crossed her arms in front of her and looked like a petulant child.

"Amelia, you're welcome to him. He's an arrogant ass and interrupted me when I was trying to read to the children. Twice. His smart-arse comments aren't going to get very far with me."

I carried on tidying up after the session and did my best not to think of Eric, but I was aware that Amelia wasn't going to let it slip that easily.

"Come on, Sook. You've been single for months now since you left Bill. Live a little. And let me live vicariously through you if you get to date the fuck-hot man!"

"Amelia!" I scolded. That kind of language was by no means appropriate for the children's section of a library.

"There's no one here!" she said, waving her arms around to illustrate her point. "And I'm serious. That man hasn't looked twice at any woman the previous times he's been here, and now you come back to work and it's all conversations and whispered moments. I'm not going to let you turn him down, trust me on that one."

I rolled my eyes as she turned and went back to the main desk of the library. I'd been working in the library since I finished my literature degree at Oxford University, and when one of the librarians decided to go part-time a year ago, I was promoted to being the full-time curator of the children's section. I just hated it that I'd had to take so much time off work, as my job was the one steady thing I still had in my life.

I understood that Amelia was just trying to be a friend, and maybe a year ago if I'd been single and a man such as Eric had shown an interest in me, I'd happily have taken him up on his offer. But things were different now, and I couldn't go there. I'd split up with Bill, after all, and although I had never seen him as my forever-man, I didn't want him to feel like he had to stay with me out of obligation.

It was just better that I was on my own, but my attempt at distancing my work colleagues wasn't working as well as I had hoped. Amelia, in particular, was certainly persistent. She was bubbly and personable, always trying to get me to go out for a drink with her after work. In the end, I relented, hoping that she would quit hassling me, however it only seemed to encourage her.

.

.

I was at work for the rest of the week, and therefore able to read to the children the next session. I'd selected_ The Cat in the Hat_ and _The Gruffalo_ to read, but I was open to other suggestions – as long as they weren't of the horror genre and were appropriate for children of this age.

When I noticed the Pamela coming to take a seat in front of me, I instinctively looked up. Her father stood in the same position at the back of the room. His eyes were fixed on me, and if I hadn't been sure, I would have looked down to make certain that I was wearing clothes, as the look he was giving me was positively feral. His eyes showed a hunger I didn't think I'd ever seen before, and despite wanting to look away from him, I found that I couldn't.

Our gaze was broken by one of the other mothers walking into the room to deposit her child in front of me, and I purposely kept my eyes away from him for the rest of session. Luckily, this time there were no interruptions from him, and I was able to read the stories I had planned to, along with a selection from the children.

The final book I read was _The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck_. The theme of pursuit and prey had never been clearer to me as I was sure that I could feel Eric's eyes upon me. I hadn't even known that was possible before now.

At the end of the session, I dismissed the children and started clearing up as before. And as before, Eric had remained in position.

"You have a real love for children's literature," he commented.

I stopped what I was doing and looked over to him. "It's why I'm in the job I am," I said, a little too harshly.

"I like a woman who is passionate about what she believes in," he said walking over to me and leaning down to whisper into my ear. "Maybe we could discuss it more over dinner sometime."

"I'm sorry, I can't," I said, backing away from him and trying my best to resume what I was doing.

"Why not? Your friend Amelia has already told me that you're single, and don't pretend that you're not interested in me. It really is quite obvious.""" He had an arrogant smirk on his face that was incredibly sexy. I had to admit that I found his confidence a huge turn-on.

"Let me take you out to dinner, Sookie. I promise I can behave like a gentleman." His tone was softer, and I really wanted to give in.

"I don't know anything about you," I said, as I carried on with my work, picking up a pile of books and starting to return them to the correct places on the shelves. Ignoring him was much harder than I thought possible.

"What do you want to know?" he purred when we were alone down one of the aisles and he was blocking my escape route.

I gave up resisting and looked up at him. His eyes were intense and seemed a darker shade of blue than before. My resolve was hanging on by a single thread.

"I don't know your full name, I don't know what you do, I don't know whether you're married or what's happened to your daughter's mother, and I don't get why you're interested in me."

I looked away from him, feeling a little ashamed at the interrogation I had given him. Really, that information was none of my business. I tried to dart past him but again he blocked my way.

"I'll answer that last question first," he said, his eyes sultry as he looked down at me. I had to gulp to swallow the saliva that had pooled in my mouth. "You are a beautiful woman, Sookie Stackhouse, and I would very much like to get to know you a lot better. You interest me like very few women do; you're intelligent and sharp and you have a real gusto for life."

I shuddered; my breathing becoming unsteady. I wished all that was true. I wanted his comments to be true, but they weren't.

"As for me," he continued, "my name is Eric Andrew Northman and I'm a children's author."

Eric Andrew Northman. As in E A Northman. He'd had huge success with a series of novels he had written for young teenagers about vampires and werewolves. It wasn't a surprise that his daughter was such a fan of classical horror.

"Wow," was my response. "I love your books, you have such an incredible imagination."

"You have no idea," he purred seductively in a deep voice. I could feel my insides tighten at his implication. "As for my daughter's mum," he said, his voice back to its normal pitch, "she left when Pam was only six months old. She ran off with another man, and I haven't heard from her since."

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it sincerely. I could only imagine how awful that must have been. And quite simply the woman must have been crazy if she left a man like Eric. A man who would be very easy to fall in love with.

But I couldn't.

"Don't be. She left the best part of herself behind." He stepped closer again to me, almost pushing me into the bookshelves. "So, now you know all about me, you can give me your address and phone number and I can take you out. I know a great little restaurant that I'm confident you would love."

I wanted to say yes, and my body was betraying me as he stepped in closer.

"Dad!" a voice rang out from behind Eric, and I was relieved to have the distraction to try and recover my inner strength.

A flash of annoyance crossed Eric's face, before he schooled his features and turned to his daughter. I saw that Amelia was stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder and she was giving Eric an apologetic look. Amelia was obviously in on this and had been given babysitting duties while Eric asked me out. I had to admire his forethought and persistence.

To avoid talking to Eric again, I focused on Pam, asking her about her favourite books and what she thought of her dad's writing. It turned out she was his biggest critic, telling me bits she liked in his books, but also bits that she didn't like. I could see amusement on Eric's face as I chatted with her, and I couldn't help but really like them both.

When they went to leave, I could see that Eric was still hoping to get some time alone with me, but I noticed the Director of the library heading in my direction, and I used the opportunity to put forward some plans to her that I'd had about my section and potential ways of improving it. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Eric and Pam leaving, and I felt a pang of guilt at the way I'd treated him, but I had to do it.

As expected, as soon as my conversation with the Director finished, Amelia was on me.

"You do realise you're crazy right?" she said angrily. When I didn't respond, she continued. "A hot man like that, not to mention that he's a famous and successful children's author, asks you out on a date and you avoid him like he's got the bubonic plague or something. What is wrong with you, Sookie? That man is perfect for you. Not only is he the most gorgeous creation I have ever seen, but he has the same interests as you. Why would you possibly want to turn him down?"

I wanted to tell her the truth, I really did. It was almost eating at me from the inside out to tell someone. But I couldn't. I didn't want to burden anyone, particularly anyone as fantastic as Eric was, or someone who could be a good friend as Amelia.

"Just stay out of my business," I snapped at her. It broke my heart to do so, but I needed to push her away. I needed to push everyone away.

"You're a complete bitch, do you know that? He left his number with me if you wanted to call him, but I'm not sure you deserve it."

I didn't ask her for the number.

.

.

It was a relief that I didn't have to go to the library over the weekend, so I spent it in bed. It was partly that I felt sorry for myself, but partly that a whole week back at work had really taken it out of me. I'd crashed each night when I'd come home, sleeping every night in excess of ten hours after eating a light meal. I didn't have much of an appetite, but tried to eat as much as I could, choosing to eat little and often as I found it easier.

Work was a struggle on the Monday and Tuesday, but I was determined to read to the children as normal. I didn't know whether to expect Pam and Eric to attend or not, but I wasn't too surprised when they weren't there. I would have been lying if I had said I wasn't disappointed.

Amelia had avoided me in the two days I'd been at work, which was fine by me as I hadn't been feeling very well, and my sickness was beginning to cause a few questions to be asked by my colleagues. I was lucky that the Director was understanding.

When I woke up on the Wednesday morning, I felt like death warmed up. I was in a huge amount of pain and I could tell I had a fever. I'd slept through my alarm for thirty-five minutes, and I wearily threw an arm outside of the bed to turn it off. I found the thermometer I kept by my bed and took my temperature. I wasn't surprised to see that it was several degrees higher than it should be.

This had been expected, and I knew I had to make a doctor's appointment. They'd told me to take it easy; to not work full time. But I loved my job, I loved the books and the children. I liked the fact that the children's section was tucked away on its own, and I didn't have to interact too often with the rest of my colleagues. It was my solace and my sanctuary.

Once I found the energy, I called in sick to work and then called the GP surgery who fitted me in with an emergency appointment. I crawled out of bed, washed and got changed and even managed a little light breakfast before I walked the short distance to the surgery. It made me very grateful that I did live so close, as I wasn't sure I had the energy or alertness to drive.

After checking in with the receptionist, I sank down into a seat and shut my eyes and waited for my name to be called. I had arrived twenty minutes early for my appointment as I wasn't sure how long it would take me to walk, so was aware that I had some time to wait, particularly as they were nearly almost always running late.

"Sookie Stackhouse," a familiar male voice said from above me, and I opened one eye to see Eric looking down at me. I had to admit to being surprised at seeing him there, and it meant that he obviously didn't live too far from me.

I didn't want him to see me like this. My hair was unwashed and untidy, I didn't have a scrap of make-up on and I was wearing ripped jeans, t-shirt and a baggy hoody that had belonged to my ex. When I didn't say anything, he sat down next to me.

"You look like shit," he commented. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," I snarked.

"What is your problem?" he hissed back. "I have done nothing but try and be nice to you. I get that I may have been a little persistent, but all you had to do was say you weren't interested. I'm sorry for bothering you."

He got up and I noticed him limp slightly, his left knee bent as he put his weight on his right leg.

"I'm sorry, Eric," I said feeling defeated. "Please, sit down." He gave me a look and then retook his seat. "You've hurt your knee?" I asked him.

"Yes," he said with a sigh. "I felt it go at the weekend when I was playing with Pam in the garden. It's why I wasn't at the library yesterday."

I felt relieved in knowing he hadn't been avoiding me, but then berated myself for thinking such thoughts.

"So what are you in for?" he asked. "You really don't look so good."

"That's a step up from 'like shit'," I responded with humour, avoiding his question. "Where's Pam?"

"She's with my mum for today and tonight. I dropped her there this morning as I had this appointment and I wanted to get some work done. And don't think I didn't notice that you avoided my question, but I can see you don't want to talk about it, so I won't push you."

"Thanks," I was grateful for that.

"So, are you going to tell me why you've avoided my advances?" I'd have rather answered his other question; at least that one was easier to lie about. I found myself wishing to be called by the doctor but knew that my chances were slim.

"It's not that I'm not interested," I said quietly, so only he would hear me. "It's just … I have some other stuff going on right now and I just need to be by myself at the moment." It was a close to the truth as I could manage.

"Can we at least be friends?" he asked, his eyes hopeful as he turned to face me.

"I don't know …"

"I wish you would tell me what is going on with you, Sookie. I want to get to know you; I really do think we could be great together."

In another reality he could be right, I thought sadly.

"Come on, Sookie, I know you feel it too."

He took my hand in his, and I was sure I felt his touch throughout my whole body. I wanted to melt into him, I wanted to let him take my pain away, but I couldn't. I couldn't do that to him, I couldn't hurt him like that.

"I do," I whispered.

"Give in, Sookie. Yield to me." I smiled at his words.

"_Eric Northman to room five; Eric Northman to room five."_

He looked annoyed at the tannoy announcement, but turned to me. "Don't go anywhere; please don't leave this surgery without me."

"Okay," I whispered and he hobbled in the direction of the doctor's room.

I shut my eyes again and waited for my own name to be called, but as expected, my doctor was running late. I looked up to see Eric come back into the waiting room, a large smile on his face as he saw me.

"Have you been in yet?" he asked, resuming his position next to me.

"Not yet, should be soon, though. Are you being fixed?"

"He's referred me for a scan. I have private insurance, but I need the GP referral. He thinks I may have torn the meniscus."

"Ow!"

"Quite. It'll probably just need an arthroscopy and then I'll be as good as new. I may need to lay off being so active with Pam, though."

"Sounds like it. You're obviously not as young as you think you are!"

"Hey!" he said with mock offence. "I'm only thirty-five! Leave off the insults." He gave me a gentle elbow in the ribs and I couldn't help but smile.

"_Sookie Stackhouse to room two; Sookie Stackhouse to room two."_

"I'll be here when you get out," he told me, and I had no option but to smile and nod before making my way slowly into the doctor's room.

The doctor was a young-looking blond man who looked far too young to be a partner in the practice, but apparently he was forty-five. He certainly looked good on it.

"How are you doing, Sookie?" He had sympathy in his eyes as he looked at me.

"I felt like shite this morning when I woke. I feel better now, but I still really feel rough."

"Have you been at work?"

"Yes, I worked all of last week and this week so far."

He gave me a disapproving look. "Sookie, you're doing too much. You are not a well woman, and I don't think you should be working at all."

"What else is there to do?" I countered. "Sit at home and feel sorry for myself? I love my job, I want to go to work."

"Well at least cut back your hours. Does your manager know about your illness?"

"The Director of the library does, but no one else does. I want to work as normal and I don't want their pity or sympathy."

The doctor sighed. "It would make me feel much better if you would allow us refer you for treatment." I groaned and attempted to get up. "Sookie, please, I don't like to see any of my patients suffer like this. There's an excellent consultant at the Churchill Hospital who can help you if you will let her."

I almost felt sorry for him. I could see he wanted to help me, and I understood how frustrating it must be that I wouldn't let him.

"Sookie, you're the one that came to see me today, what did you want me to do?"

"I have a fever. I assumed you could just give me some antibiotics and let me go home."

He gave a small smile that almost seemed to be a grimace. "Sookie, you need much more than oral antibiotics if you have a fever." He pulled a thermometer out from his desk and I stuck my tongue out for him as he placed the device under it.

"Thirty-nine point five," he said. At least it hadn't gone up any. "You need in-patient treatment."

"No," I snapped. "I don't want it. Please, just give me something for the pain."

"You're in pain as well? On the scale of one to ten, how does it rate?" We had developed this scale a few months before when I was first diagnosed, and my doctor trusted me to say when the pain got over a five. He knew I had a high pain threshold.

"It's probably a seven. I've been taking the drugs you gave me, but they don't seem to be helping."

"I can prescribe you stronger medication, but you need to collect it from a larger pharmacy. Do you have someone that can drive you there? If not I can take you myself once I finish surgery."

I was grateful for his offer, but I figured I could ask Eric. I was sure that I could tell him it was something specialist that my normal pharmacy didn't hold.

"Yeah, I do."

"That's good," he said, encouragingly. He knew that I had distanced myself from friends and loved ones since my diagnosis, not that I had a great deal of family left anyway.

He printed off a prescription and gave me instructions on when and how to take the drugs, telling me of potential side effects and things to look out for. He then gave me a scrap of paper with a mobile phone number on it.

"This is hugely unprofessional, but here is my phone number. If you need to speak to me day or night, please call me. I wish you would let us help you more; I hate that you are going through this on your own."

"Thanks, doc."

"And please call me before it gets too bad. I know you have all the information about the hospices, they are there to help you and will be able to give you the drugs to make it easier."

"I will do."

I turned and left, walking slowly back to the waiting room to see Eric still sat there. He smiled as he saw me approach, and hobbled in my direction.

"Did you drive?" I asked, suddenly unsure considering his knee problem.

"Yeah, I have an automatic. Why?"

"I was just wondering whether you would be able to take me to the Boots pharmacy. The one here doesn't hold what I need." I tried to say it as cheerfully as I could.

"Sure, I'm more than happy to drive you. Thank you for asking." He did look genuinely pleased I had asked him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, it's just anaemia." It wasn't a complete lie as I was anaemic and on medication for it.

"Okay, hop in."

He led me to a silver Mercedes SLK and climbed in. "Isn't this a bit of a girl's car?" I teased.

"I can assure you, it is not. Although it may have belonged to my sister, Isabel before she got fed up of it!"

I laughed and we chatted about his writing in the car, and he even bounced a few plot ideas off me, which I had to admit to being thrilled about. He took me to the pharmacy as requested, and didn't make any comments when I came out with a very large bag of medications. I wished that he hadn't have seen, but my own handbag was tiny and there was no way I could hide it.

"Can I make you some lunch?" he asked as we approached his home. We'd discovered that he only lived a few minutes' drive from me.

"I don't know, Eric."

I was grateful for his help, but I still wanted to keep my distance from him. I had already let him get too close to me.

"Please, Sookie, I would like it a lot." His pale blue eyes were pleading with me, and I couldn't say no, no matter how hard my head told me not to give in.

"Okay, but I shouldn't stay long. And don't you have work to do?"

"Nah, work can wait." He gave me a dazzling smile and drove the short distance to his house. His place was much larger than the place I lived in, but it was a beautiful house. It was the sort of house I really could see myself living in, and I felt slightly cheated that I wouldn't get to fulfil that dream.

He led me slowly into the large white house and gave me a tour. To the left as we walked in was a large living room with two huge leather sofas, a massive TV in one corner and next to it an open fireplace. Across the hallway was a large, formal dining room painted in a dark-red colour with a crystal chandelier hanging over the impressive table. Further down the hall was a large and messy office where Eric obviously spent his time working, and a huge kitchen-diner. I loved the place instantly.

"How would some soup do? I'm not the best cook in the world, but I know how to buy good-quality cartons."

He opened up the fridge to reveal a few different flavours, and I chose one that looked good. Eric busied himself heating our soup on the hob and buttering some bread rolls. We ate at the small table in his kitchen rather than the formal dining room.

"Thank you, Eric," I said once we'd finished. I'd actually surprised myself at how much I had eaten, but then I had skipped breakfast. "I should probably be going. You have work to do."

"I'd rather spend time with you," he purred, his eyes heavy with lust.

He moved closer to me, his eyes on my mouth and I couldn't help myself but run my tongue over my lips in preparation. I knew it was wrong. I knew I shouldn't be putting myself or Eric into this situation. I needed to get away from him.

"Can I use your bathroom?" I asked, pulling back from him and wincing at the disappointed look on his face.

"Sure," he said straightening up. "It's just through there to your right."

I followed where he said and found the small room, which was interestingly decorated with maps of the world rather than wallpaper or paint. I couldn't help but like the quirkiness of it. After doing my business and washing my hands, I headed back into the kitchen to see that Eric was looking through the large paper bag of medication I'd been given by the hospital.

I froze in my tracks when I saw him. "What do you think you're doing!" I yelled. "Put that down."

I stepped towards him, but he pulled the bag away from me. "Why have you been prescribed morphine?" he asked, holding up one of the boxes.

"That's none of your business. Give it back; I'm going home."

"Sookie, tell me," he demanded. "Why? Why all this medication? This is a fucking strong painkiller!" He was shouting and he seemed angry, but I could see the pain in his eyes and I knew that he knew.

"Please," I begged. "Just let me be. Let me go home and forget you ever met me." I couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

"I can't. Please tell me what's wrong with you. Why won't you let me get close to you? Why are you pushing me away?"

"Because you deserve better!" I yelled, "You shouldn't have to be burdened with my troubles. I didn't want to drag you into this; I didn't want for you to get hurt." I sank down onto the seat and buried my head in my hands.

"Sookie, please."

Eric sat down next to me and stroked my head as I sobbed. I hated crying. I had cried when I got my initial diagnosis, but I had always been so determined to be strong and hadn't allowed myself to cry since. We sat like that for what must have been ten minutes; my head resting on my right arm, with Eric gently stroking my hair and cheek, his other hand clenched with mine under the table.

"I have end-stage terminal cancer," I told him quietly once my tears had abated. I heard him gasp at my news and he moved closer to me. "By the time it was discovered it was already too late. It has spread from my ovaries to my liver, lungs and bones. There aren't any options for me."

I looked up at him to see tears in his eyes.

"I didn't want you to get close to me. I didn't want to put you through this. You shouldn't have to worry about me."

"I want to," he said snottily. "Can't you have chemotherapy or something? There must be something they can do." I could hear the desperation in his voice, and I hated myself for allowing this.

"I could have had palliative chemo, but I chose not to."

"Why?" he asked sounding outraged at my decision.

"Because I watched both my aunt and gran go through chemo, and I saw what it did to them. I wanted to continue working as long as possible and chemo just made them sicker."

"Please tell me you've not been going through this on your own? What about your family?" he sniffed loudly and stroked my face.

"I'm not very close to my brother, and the rest of my family are already dead. I've had a visit from a cancer nurse, but essentially I've refused treatment."

"Why?" he asked again, "Sookie, please. Please get treatment. You have to get better!" he rested his head against mine.

"I'm so sorry, Eric. This is why I didn't want to get close to you. This is why I've been pushing you away. It's all happened so suddenly, I mean, I only met you eight days ago. Why do you care so much?"

"You have nothing to be sorry for. And the reason I care so much is because you captivated me. The way you read to the children, your knowledge, your passion and understanding of the literature. And you are so beautiful, Sookie. I don't think you realise how beautiful you are."

I looked up at him feeling astounded at his words. No one had ever spoken to me like that before, not even my ex-boyfriend, Bill. I hated fate for allowing me to know this incredible man when I had only months at best to live. I must have been a mass-murdered in a former life for karma to kick me like this.

"I should go, Eric." I said, hoping that he would let me leave.

"No. I'm not going to let you go through this on your own. I am going to be here for you. I'm sorry, Sookie, but you're stuck with me."

I relished his words. I knew he believed them; I knew that he really did want to look after me.

"Eric, you have Pam to consider. She's your daughter, you need to put her first." I was hoping that using Pam would make him realise he was making a mistake.

I could see that he was torn.

"You can't hurt her like that." I continued. "She's only a child. She deserves to know the joys of life."

He gave a small smile. "No. I stand by what I said before. Children need to know that life isn't a fairy tale, and anyway not all fairy tales have happy endings."

I could see this was a losing battle, and there was a very large part of me that was more than willing to give into him. I just didn't want him to be hurt because of me.

"This won't have a happy ending, Eric."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to bale out before the end."

I shut my eyes and felt the tears stream down my face again. I wanted him so much, but I wanted to be well for him. I wanted to be everything for him.

"Sookie," he said, softly, taking my head in his large hands and running his thumbs along my cheeks to wipe away my tears. "I'm here."

It didn't help that I could see the tears on his own cheeks.

He leaned closer to me and I watched him lick his lips in anticipation. I copied his action, moving in nearer to him. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, and his scent was consuming me. His eyes were kind but had a passion behind them, and he closed the distance between us, softly placing his lips on mine.

His lips were soft and warm and everything I needed. He kissed me again, a little harder this time, his grip on my head strengthening as I met his movements. I heard his chair scratch along the tiled floor as he shifted his whole body closer to me, but somehow without losing lip contact.

This kiss was perfect. And for those brief seconds I forgot who I was.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine, his breathing heavier than before. "I want you to stay with me. And I don't just mean tonight. I can't stand the thought of you being alone." He pulled away so he could look into my eyes.

I wanted to protest but my vocal chords failed me.

"Tomorrow … we can go to your place, pick up what you need. And you need to call the library, you shouldn't be working."

I looked at him. I wanted to tell him off for being high-handed, for trying to decide what was best for me. I wanted to be strong, stubborn and forceful and tell him to leave me alone.

But I couldn't. I didn't have the energy to fight him on it. He was exactly what I needed.

"Come, let's go into the living room where we can be more comfortable." I expected him to help me to my feet, but he scooped me up into his arms, my left arm wrapping around his neck as he deposited me onto the large, soft sofa.

"I thought you had a bad knee!" I scolded once he put me down.

"Nah, you're worth it. It doesn't actually feel too bad at the moment." He sat by me and placed a hand on my cheek. "Do you need any medications now? Are you in pain?"

His eyes were so caring that I was sure that I could feel my tears building again. "I'm fine at the moment. You know that you don't have to look after me like this."

"I want to," he said kindly. "Why have you pushed people away from you?"

I shut my eyes and sank into the sofa before turning to face him. "I didn't want anyone to be hurt because of me. When I got the diagnosis … I thought had irritable bowel syndrome. I'd had it for years, but it had gotten worse over six months or so, and then it turned out not to be IBS at all. I did have a boyfriend. We'd been together about eighteen months, and he was sweet and charming. But he didn't deserve that. He had a life and a career; he didn't need to look after a terminally ill girlfriend…"

"So you split up with him?" I nodded. "Did you not think he would want to look after you? Like I do."

"Not really. I found out from a mutual friend that two weeks after I left him he'd met someone else. I've chatted to him online since and he seems really happy. How could I take that chance of happiness away from him."

I suddenly felt guilty again about putting Eric through this again, panic coursing through me.

"Hey, Sookie, stop it." He could obviously sense my alarm. "You don't need to feel like that. You have given more than enough opportunities to bale on you, but I don't want to. I'm here for you until…"

He stopped himself before he said 'the end'. I could see the tears in his eyes again and it pained me greatly to know that I was the cause.

"I don't want you to hurt," I told him.

"I would hurt if you left me now."

.

.

We spent the rest of the day camped out in his living room. Despite my efforts I couldn't hide the pain and he insisted on me taking medication. I therefore spent the evening sleeping on and off, wrapped in a comfortable blanket and propped up with pillows. He sat next to me, his laptop in front of him as he wrote, in between bouts of fussing over me.

He had encouraged me to call and speak to the Director of the library, telling him that I wouldn't be coming back. I didn't want the others to know, but Eric convinced me that Amelia, in particular, would be quite upset if I didn't tell her anything.

I just didn't know what to say. How do you tell someone that you probably only have months to live. It made me pleased that I didn't have family to tell. At least Eric had found out on his own.

"What are you going to tell Pam?" I asked him as he made a light meal of ham and cheese omelette.

"For the most part, the truth. Maybe she doesn't need to know quite how unwell you are, but I don't want to lie to her."

"You don't think it's going to be strange for her to have some unknown woman move into her home and take up her dad's time?"

"Possibly, but she'll adapt. She likes you a lot, Sookie. The first time you read to her, you were all she could talk about in the car coming home and for a few days afterwards."

That really warmed me and I couldn't help but smile.

"And anyway, she goes back to school on Monday as the holidays are over. My sister Isabel has a son the same age as her, so she takes them both to school and back. I'm sure Isabel will really like you."

"Eric," I groaned. "It's bad enough that I'm inflicting myself on you, please don't burden your family with me."

He moved to sit by me, placing a hand to my face. "I have told you, you are not a burden. Please don't see yourself like that."

I didn't respond as I couldn't not see myself like that, no matter how many times he told me otherwise. The truth was, I wasn't his responsibility and he shouldn't have to feel like he had to look after me.

But I craved it. I craved him. And the little voice of reason in the back of my mind was quickly being drowned out by the affection I had towards this man. This man who I would have given anything to spend many years with. I supposed that I would, at least, get to spend the rest of my life with him.

When it got close to bedtime, Eric led me upstairs, giving me the choice of sleeping with him or in the guest room. I know I shouldn't have, but I chose to be with him. I took a quick bath in his en-suite and changed into a large t-shirt of his and a pair of his boxer shorts which I had to roll up at the top.

"You have no idea how hot you look in my clothes," Eric said as I walked back into the bedroom. I could feel myself blush, but it wasn't just from his words. It was the fact that he was stood there is only a pair of black sleep pants. He was exquisite, and I hadn't realised that a chest like his even existed in real life without airbrushing.

"You okay?" he asked with an amused smirk.

"Yeah, um…"

"Enjoying the view?"

"Something like that!"

"Come on, come to bed."

He patted the large bed that must have been specifically made for his height and I crawled in next to him. He pulled me close, my back to his chest as he wrapped his large frame around me. I felt safe, warm and content in his arms and I felt myself relax into him. I could feel the effects of the drugs I'd taken, and before long, I drifted off into a deep and relaxing sleep.

**Eric**

I didn't sleep well at all.

I had tried my absolute best since I met her in the doctor's surgery to stay strong, but inside I was tormented. I had known when I first saw her there that something was not right with her. Something told me that she wasn't there because of flu or something trivial. And it broke my heart when she told me.

She deserved so much more. She deserved to have a long life and be happy; to have children and to watch her grandchildren grow up. And it hurt so much that she couldn't have that.

I hadn't believed that a man could be so drawn to a woman after only seeing her across a room. I didn't think that was possible. I thought that was just something that happened in fiction. But the pull I felt when I first saw her was intense. She was by far the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen and she possessed a depth that so many others didn't. But what won it for me was Pam's reaction to her. I'd dated other women, but Pam had never liked any of them, and none of those women really seemed to care about her.

"Hey," I heard Sookie say softly as soon as I opened my eyes the next morning. She was lying facing me and I moved closer to her.

"Hey yourself. You okay?"

"Mmmm," she moaned in a noise that went straight to my groin. "I slept really well, and I feel better this morning."

I placed a hand on her forehead before kissing the same spot. "You still feel a little feverish."

"What can I say? I'm in bed with a hot man."

I growled and moved on top of her, supporting my weight on my arms so I wasn't crushing her. I was well aware that my erection was prodding her. "I don't want to push you…"

"I want to," she said resolutely. "And later, I may not be able to…"

"Don't worry about later."

I kissed her gently, her eager lips meeting mine and matching my rhythm. She ran her hands through my hair, pulling at it and pulling me closer to her. In the space I'd give her underneath me, she pulled off the t-shirt she was wearing and threw it on the floor. I couldn't keep my eyes away from her chest as I devoured more of her exquisite body. It did pain me how thin she looked, but she was still beautiful.

I started to kiss down her jaw, her neck, her shoulder blades, her breasts, and she moaned and writhed underneath me. She was perfection.

Her hands were grasping at me, touching me wherever she could, and she begged me to remove our remaining clothes. When I felt her tiny hand on me … I felt at home with her. She was my all. But it wasn't forever. It couldn't be forever.

I tasted her. Her moans were as exquisite to my ears as her taste was to my lips. Once she came, I moved back up her body. She told me I didn't need to use protection due to her illness, and I slipped inside her, softly at first until I could hold back no longer.

I needed her like I needed oxygen. She felt so right.

Her moans increased with my speed and she began to shudder underneath me. Her fingernails dug into my shoulder and my lips found hers. I could feel her clamping down on me and I came, hard.

"Wow," she said after we'd both recovered our breath. "You're incredible."

I rolled over onto my side and kissed her on the nose. "As are yoyouu."

"I wish …" she took a deep breath and I could see the emotion in her eyes. "I wish I had longer with you. I hate that I can't be with you forever."

It took a lot of strength for me to not be choked by her words. "I wish that as well."

.

Later that morning I drove Sookie to pick up some belongings from her house. She selected some clothes and toiletries, along with a few of her favourite books and her computer. It pained me greatly when she picked up documents pertaining to her last will and testament, and even more so when I saw literature from a local hospice.

"I've been reading up on their services. I didn't want any help, but I can see the benefits."

"I want to be there for you, Sookie."

She smiled sadly and placed a hand on my cheek. "I know, but they can help you too. It might be that I get too unwell…"

"Don't," I asked her, not wanting to hear her say it.

"I'm just saying we may need them."

After packing the bags in my car, I drove her back to my house to unpack before I went to the library. Sookie had wanted some of the personal items she kept in her desk, and she'd given me permission to tell Amelia what was happening. As soon as I spotted Amelia, she came up to me.

"Have you seen Sookie? The Director told us she's not coming back. Why? What's happened?"

"Do you have somewhere quiet we can talk?"

She led me to her office and shut the door behind her. "Sookie … she has cancer." It hurt to say it out loud and somehow made it feel real.

"No!" Amelia gasped. "But she'll be okay?"

"No, she won't be." I sank my head into my hands and stared at the tiled carpet. "She's terminally ill. There's nothing anyone can do for her."

"But she seemed fine! Wouldn't she have been sick if she'd had chemo?"

"She chose not to. By the time she was diagnosed it was already too late. She has months at the most to live."

It seemed so final to say it out loud. I could feel a tear trickling down my cheek.

"But she's so young, she's twenty-seven. Fuck!" she said loudly as she sank into her chair, too numb for tears.

"She's staying with me," I explained. "She was trying to push everyone away from her. She didn't want people to be hurt by her … illness." I couldn't say death out loud. It hurt to even think it.

"That's stupid and all too selfless."

"I know."

"What now?"

"I look after her. I've told my publisher that the next book is on hold. She is more important."

"I'm so sorry, Eric. I can see how this hurts you."

"She's perfect. She should be with me for decades. I should be hers for decades. It's not fair that a woman as fantastic as her should face this." I took a deep, shuddering breath to try and calm myself and dried my eyes on the tissue Amelia passed me.

"You don't have to do this alone, I can be there too."

"Thank you."

After picking up Sookie's belongings and avoiding the rest of her colleagues, I made my way to my mother's house. I'd told her before about Sookie and she had known how keen I was on her. By the time, I had finished explaining, my mother was in tears as well and wanted to do everything she could for Sookie.

Explaining to Pam was more difficult. She was smart for her age, but it would be difficult for her to understand this. She was actually very happy about Sookie coming to live with us, and asked whether she was my girlfriend. Although I hadn't discussed it with Sookie, I hoped that she wouldn't be mad at me for telling Pam that she was.

Sookie's illness was harder to explain. I didn't want to upset my daughter, but then I also didn't want her to think that Sookie would be around forever. I knew all too painfully that she wouldn't be. I tried to explain to Pam using a story I had once written for children where a parent had been unwell and subsequently died, and I was fairly sure she understood. Only time would tell, however.

.

.

Over the next few weeks, Sookie was seemingly doing well. I had gone with her to her doctor's appointments and we'd spoken again to the cancer nurse. She was eating well and keeping her strength up, but it upset me to see how reliant she became on the painkillers as her illness progressed. Her list of medications must have been a mile long, and on more than one occasion, her own doctor almost begged her to consider in-patient treatment.

I was becoming almost as reluctant to let her go as she was to leave.

Amelia came over often, giving Sookie a little 'girl time' and a break from my fussing over her. But what pained me was how Amelia would notice the changes in her each time she came. I didn't always see the changes as I saw Sookie every day, but Amelia would notice that she looked thinner, or paler, or see the increased dark circles under her eyes.

Amelia also tried to look out for me. Where I was on Sookie's back to keep herself strong, Amelia joined forces with my mother and Isabel to make sure I stayed strong and healthy. I just found it hard to find time for myself when I had both Pam and Sookie to care for, and I clung to both of them as hard as I could.

.

.

"Eric," she said one night as she was lying in my arms in front of the fire in the living room. It was two months to the day since we'd first met, and the late October weather had turned dark and dreary to match my mood.

"Yes, Sookie?"

"I've written my will." I clenched my teeth to hold back the tears. "I don't have much, but I want you and Pam to have it."

Sookie had called her brother the week after moving in with me and told him her news. He never came to see her. She told me he always had been self-centred and probably didn't know how to deal with a dying sister, but I couldn't forgive him that easily.

"You don't have to do that," I choked out. For the most part, we didn't talk about her dying.

"I want to."

"Thank you." It was all I could say.

"I also … I want to sign a Do Not Resuscitate order."

"Sookie, no!" I held onto her tighter and buried my head into her hair. "Please."

"Eric, I don't want to suffer any more. I don't want to be hooked up to machines to breathe for me when I'm essentially dead already. I want to die peacefully. It will be easier for you in the long run."

"I don't want you do die," I whispered into her ear.

"I know, but you knew this was coming."

"It doesn't make it any easier."

She turned her body so she could face me, her beautiful blue eyes meeting mine. Even after all the painkillers and drugs she'd had, her eyes were still beautiful.

"I love you, Eric."

It was the first time she had said it. I had whispered it to her many times, as she slept in my arms, but I'd never told her to her face.

"I love you, too."

That night was the last time we made love.

.

.

"Eric, are you ready?"

I turned to face Isabel and my mother. I didn't think I would ever be ready for this.

Sookie had clung on to life for three months, one week and four days after I first met her. It wasn't long enough by any stretch of the imagination. In the end, she had gone downhill quite quickly, needing to be heavily sedated on strong painkillers, and for those last few days she'd been admitted into the hospice.

Her brother never showed up.

Pam held my hand reassuringly as we walked out to the black car to make our way to the small church whwhere the service was being held. Amelia had helped me contact old friends of Sookie's, many of whom had no idea she was even sick, let alone dying.

"I had no idea," a dark-haired man said as he came up to me after the service. Using Sookie's description, I recognised him as Bill Compton. "She told me that she didn't see a future for us; that she didn't want to lead me on. I didn't know that this is what she meant."

I could see the sincerity and pain in his eyes. Sookie had deceived a lot of people, but I was glad I was not one of them.

When I returned home, my house was cold and empty. Pam, too, was subdued, opting to play alone in her room. The whole house had memories of Sookie, and I was half inclined to sell up and move away. But I never could.

Selfishly, I was grateful that Sookie chose to go into the hospice at the end, although I wondered if she did it deliberately as she knew that I would struggle to cope if she died at home.

Pam became the rock that stabilised me. She'd always been the centre of my universe, but after Sookie's passing, she became my reason to keep on going. The money that Sookie had left, I put in trust for Pam. Sookie had a great affection and tenderness for my daughter, and I knew that she would want her money to be put to good use, particularly when Pam expressed an interest in becoming a doctor. I wondered how long she would keep up that idea, but secretly hoped that she would follow through on that dream.

My publisher, Sophie-Anne, finally got her wish a year after Sookie's death, although my next book was published nine months behind schedule. Personally, I didn't care that my fans had wanted it earlier, I had more important things on my mind.

Of course, I dedicated the book to my Sookie:

'_My beloved Sookie. You changed my whole world when you stumbled into it; our first words of debate over fairy tales. I wished that our lives could have been the fairy tale romance you deserved, but, alas, not all fairy tales have happy endings. _

_I will meet you again, someday. You are my inspiration and my love, and I am yours eternally.'_


End file.
